


Rochester's Dilemma

by Sile001



Series: Jane Eyre [1]
Category: Jane Eyre - Fandom, Jane Eyre 2006
Genre: AU, Book/series crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sile001/pseuds/Sile001
Summary: Narrative of some scenes in the book/series from Edward's POV





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted by me on Fanfiction.net under the pen name of Sile-Beansidhe  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1152477/Sile-Beansidhe

Edward walked through the orchard at Thornfield. The soft summer breeze stirred the leaves of the ancient trees, allowing sunlight to pierce the green canopy above his head. He settled himself upon the seat which girdled the ancient chestnut tree at the end of the laurel walk. 'Damned if I know what I can do.'

He folded his arms across his chest and withdrew into a world of his own. Until recently, his world had comprised a life of hedonism, facile friendships, the occasional affaire, and the ever-present sense of a soul-gnawing loneliness. Until now; until Jane Eyre had crossed his path.  
'Aye, she crossed my path all right. She ensured she bewitched my horse, felled him and me, and in doing so, enslaved and stole my heart.'

Edward smiled to himself. Not his usual sardonic, for-the-public-only smile. No, this expression held a mixture of rueful admiration and softness. Had he bestowed it upon any of his acquaintances they would have barely credited it.  
'Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, what the deuce have you done to me?'  
Edward knew very well the answer to that question. Without a doubt, and without any effort on Jane's part, he had given over his heart, his soul and his very life to her. And she was unaware of it. There was the rub. The self-contained little governess who flitted about Thornfield's shadowed gallery and rooms held the power of life or death over the soul of Edward Fairfax Rochester, her employer and one of the wealthiest men in the district.

There was nothing Edward could do to unlove her, any more than he could cease to breathe, to think, to dream. But he dared not declare himself to this young girl, almost half his age. For, unknown to her, he was shackled, the fetters being as strong as any forged by smiths and ironworkers. Stronger in fact. For these chains which bound him were placed about him by temporal and corporeal laws, unremitting and breakable only by death. He was a prisoner who dared not state his case, whose sentence was lifelong. The leaves rustled ever more forcefully as the breeze grew into a howling wind. Raindrops found their way through the canopy of leaves. Thunder crashed and echoed about the house and grounds. Still Edward remained sentinel near the chestnut tree.

He turned his head as a cloaked figure hurried down the laurel walk towards him. For a heartbeat, he thought it was Jane. A wash of disappointment flooded through him as he realised that Blanche Ingram, enveloped in a costly garment, accosted him.  
'Rochester, what are you doing outside in this?' Her gaze was all questioning disapproval. Her pinched mouth relaxed into a semblance of a smile. 'Do you know, Edward, for all your eccentricities, you're devilishly attractive?' Blanche approached him, seduction in every movement.

 _'Good God, I cannot bear this!'_ Edward bit back the retort.

Edward stood and proffered his arm. 'Let us go back to the house, Miss Ingram. I cannot risk your catching cold.'

 _'And having you stay beneath my roof any longer than necessary,'_  
was his unspoken addendum.

For once, Blanche did not reply. Clearly, she was puzzled at his behaviour. Edward slanted a glance at her profile, framed by her hood. She was beautiful, he had to admit; about as beautiful as a marble sculpture, and with as much heart and warmth. Nothing further was said until they reached the house. Before Edward could disengage his arm, Blanche detained him. 'We could deal well together, you and I.' Her gaze was direct and uncompromising. She continued:  
'I am known to get what I want, Edward, and you are definitely the most desirable man of my acquaintance.' A slight flush passed over her face as she lowered her gaze.

Edward hid a smile. If the little minx was looking for evidence of reciprocal feelings, then she was to be sadly disappointed. He didn't like to be the quarry, nor did he have any inclination towards seduction of the so called 'Beauty of the County.' Not for the first time he berated himself for setting up this ridiculous houseparty.

A soft footstep sounded upon the stairs leading from the upper floors. Jane, her face pale, passed the couple. Polite as ever, she curtsied before moving to the door of the library. Suppressing an urge to pursue the woman he loved, Edward released Blanche's grasp upon his arm, bowed and made polite excuses before heading for his chamber. Once there, he locked his door.

Edward poured himself a generous measure of brandy from the decanter on the side table near the fireplace. As he felt the burn of the liquor hit his throat, so did his heart fill with shame. Jane's face and demeanour appeared to be composed, but he who loved her best knew that she was disturbed and unhappy by the tableau she had just witnessed.

'Dammit to hell!' He flung the glass into the fireplace.

###########

The company had returned to the salon after dinner. Of course, Blanche ensured that she was the centre of attention, holding forth upon anything and everything – and usually coming to the most erroneous conclusions, the most faulty one of all being that she was correct in her assumptions.

Edward stationed himself some distance away. He watched Blanche as she preened and pouted. He was glad that for once his body wasn't stirred by the sight of a beautiful woman. He mentally shook his head at his own idiocy in respect of other, equally alluring females. How foolish, how completely naïve he had been – especially regarding the long-ago woman who was his first sexual partner. A chill shuddered its way down his spine as he pushed unwelcome recollections to the back of his mind.

'Rochester, come and settle a little dispute, old man.'

Edward roused himself from his reverie. Sir George Lynn and Colonel Dent were beckoning him to join them. Pasting a social smile upon his face he strolled across the room. 'Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you? If it's advice on horseflesh you're wanting, well, I leave that to the men at Tattersall's.'

Colonel Dent chuckled, his still handsome face radiating wicked glee. 'Actually, Rochester, we're taking bets on quite another matter. You're damned close-mouthed, as I was telling Sir George. Won't you at least give us a hint as to how the land lies?'

Edward stilled though his smile remained in place. 'What do you mean?' All at once, he was aware of Jane's presence over in the windowseat. Even though she was partly obscured by a heavy curtain, every nerve and pulse beat in his body called out to her. Edward had insisted on her presence in the drawing room each evening. Ostensibly, she was there to ensure Adele, his ward, didn't misbehave. His motives were rooted in less altruistic reasons.

'Well, you can't deny that La Belle Ingram expects a declaration from you. Why else would you invite us all here?'

'Perhaps I did so merely to repay any hospitality I've been offered during my all too brief visits to Thornfield.' Edward's voice was cool. 'Really, gentlemen, you're as bad as those tabbies – among whom I include Lady Ingram – who foment something out of nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me.' Edward left the two men to their suppositions. He needed some air.

Once outside, Edward strolled across the paved area to a part of the gardens where a little arbour was let into the wall. Sitting there, he reviewed the previous few hours.

'Christ, what a damned mess!' It was more than a mess – now, he had to dissuade Blanche and her mother from any inclinations toward himself. His plan to make Jane jealous, to spur her into showing her feelings had backfired. He still was largely unclear on that front. 'Deuce take it, how in hell am I going to get out of this one?'

'Rochester? Are you quite the thing?' Edward started; he had not heard Eshton's approach. 'I'm fine, thank you, John. Would you believe that there's something of a book being run on the likelihood of mine and Blanche's nuptuals?' He laughed, a scornful, bitter sound.

'Well Edward, is it any wonder? You and she have been in one another's company rather a lot of late. No doubt Lady Ingram is _aux anges_ at the idea of bestowing her lovely offspring upon you.'

'Hm. The old besom never did like the Rochesters – though the money mitigates our lack of title, no doubt' Edward replied tartly. 'I daresay, I can come up with some ruse or other to escape La Ingram – though I'm damned if I can think of one at this moment.'

Eshton laughed. 'Serves you right, you always were a devious young chap.'

'Comes of having had a father and a brother such as mine were, John. They had as much sensibility as that stone wall.' Edward's voice was bitter. He stood. 'I'm going in now. God, I'm so bloody weary of this whole business.'

'Look, Edward, if you need anyone to confide in …' Eshton eyed his friend with concern.

'Thanks, Eshton, I'll bear that in mind. I appreciate it.' A faint smile crossed Edward's face. It was true, he was weary to the bone. He had become accustomed to quiet days at Thornfield, pleasant evenings being read to by Jane or relating stories of his travels. His heart contracted as a pang of yearning passed through him. As he entered the side door and crossed the hall, he saw Jane as she reached a turn on the staircase. 'Jane, where are you going?' Belatedly he realised his tone was sharper than warranted.

Jane turned to face him. Edward was shocked at her pallor, at the bruises of weariness beneath her eyes. 'I am retiring sir. I'm afraid I am unused to such gay company.' She essayed a small smile, an expression which didn't reach her eyes. Edward found himself half-moving toward her to clasp her to him. Thankfully, he stopped just in time.

'Where is Adele?'

'I have sent Sophie for her, Mr Rochester. Adele is also growing weary. Goodnight, sir.' As Jane curtsied, Edward cast about for an excuse to keep her talking. To his chagrin he found none.

'Very well, Jane, go to bed. Sleep well. However, I still expect you to attend in the drawing room after dinner. I …' Unable to continue without utterly disgracing himself, Edward turned and re-entered the salon.


End file.
